The Fight For Soup
by thosepaperroses
Summary: Fill of this prompt (we're both sick and we both grabbed for the last can of soup at the store au) with Klaine.
1. Main Story

Blaine Anderson was _sick_. It was so bad that he couldn't even remember the last time he was this ill. Usually, he just got those colds that passed in a day with some medicine and sleep. But not this time. Right now, he was so sick he felt like he was going to die. His head throbbed, even after taking some aspirin. His nose was so sore from constantly wiping it that it hurt to even touch it.

Blaine had just taken some drowsy cold medicine and he knew he _should_ stay curled up in his bed, buried under his blankets as he waited for the medicine to kick in.

There was only one problem. He was _starving_. The last time Blaine ate was yesterday and now it felt like his stomach was caving in on itself. His apartment had more than enough food, but just the thought of eating a sandwich or chips or the like upset his body. All he wanted was soup.

Except there wasn't a single can of soup in his entire apartment. Blaine could've sworn that he stocked a few cans away, but when he looked earlier, he couldn't find them anywhere. He explored the fridge, dug through the cabinets, combed the pantry. They were nowhere to be found.

Blaine's stomach growled loudly, the only sound in his otherwise silent bedroom. He was so hungry that he wanted to double over from the pain. He had to find something to eat, but there was nothing in his apartment. There was only one thing left to do- go outside and face civilization.

Blaine knew that this wasn't the smartest idea, as he did just take some drowsy medicine. He still felt completely awake, but the medicine was bound to kick in soon. His brain told him to be rational and stay put. He could find food once he was finished sleeping.

His stomach, however, was louder. Literally. It told him that he needed to eat. Now. Or he was going to die.

Blaine sat up in his bed, debating it. The grocery store _was _on his block. It would only take him a few minutes to get there, then he would just grab some soup and come straight back. The whole trip wouldn't take longer than ten minutes. Besides, he was pretty sure that being hungry was hurting his recovery.

Blaine slowly crawled out of his bed and stood up. He grabbed his tissue box off his bedside table and dropped a twenty dollar bill and his keys into it. He shoved his feet into a pair of slippers.

He was wearing an off-white, ancient T-shirt and pajama bottoms. His hair, usually neatly gelled down, was wildly curly. Blaine hadn't shaved in days and now he had this weird stubble he didn't like. He knew he looked homeless, but he didn't really care. He just needed his soup.

Blaine trudged to the elevator, then walked out the lobby and onto the street. As soon as he stepped out the door, he was immediately slapped by the sharp coldness. He considered going back to grab a jacket, but the walk was so short that there was really no point. He could handle freezing for a couple of minutes.

As it turns out, he couldn't. Blaine practically ran to the grocery store, sighing contently at how warm it was once he was inside. Now all he had to do was find the soup and get out. He looked around and tapped the first employee he could find.

"Excuse me," Blaine said to her. She turned around to face him, eyes widening slightly at how terrible he looked. "Where's the soup aisle?"

She pointed towards the back of the store. "Aisle 6."

Blaine thanked her before trekking there, bursting into a sneezing fit en route. He grabbed a bunch of tissues and rubbed his nose, sighing. As soon as this hell was over, he was never going to take being healthy for granted ever again.

He went to the correct aisle, but the shelves there were almost completely empty. In fact, there was only one can of soup. Blaine shuffled towards it, half-expecting confetti to fall from the ceiling. This was what sailors must feel like when they see land, he thought. What scientists feel like when they discover the cure to a disease.

Blaine reached for the can. What teachers feel like when they-

And suddenly there was another hand. On the soup can. On _his _soup can.

Blaine whipped around to see who, exactly, had the nerve. _He _was there first. It was _his_.

It turned out to be a guy around his age who, judging from his appearance, was also sick. His nose was red and runny and he, like Blaine, carried a pack of tissues in his hand. Blaine had to admit that, even though the guy was sick, he was still pretty attractive. If he looked this good when he was sick, he probably looked like a model when he was healthy. It almost made him wish he put an ounce of effort into his appearance.

"I'm sorry, but I really need that soup," Blaine said. Normally he would be a gentleman and let the other guy have it, but right now he was sick and starving and miserable. And he wasn't going to let this guy's looks distract him from the prize. "I haven't eaten all day. I'm going to die."

"Stop being so melodramatic," the other guy said, punctuated with an eye roll. "I haven't eaten all day either _and _I have to go to work in a couple of hours."

Blaine couldn't combat that one- his only plans for the rest of the day were sleeping and maybe catching up on some reality TV. He had another argument ready, though:

"Well, I just took some drowsy medicine and I have to get back to my apartment before I pass out on the floor." As soon as Blaine said this, he realized that he was already feeling pretty tired. Oh no. He tried discreetly pinching himself in the leg to feel more awake.

"And whose fault was that?" The boy tugged a tissue free from his pack and wiped his nose. "Who takes drowsy medicine in the middle of the day, anyways?"

"That was the only kind I had," Blaine shot back. He was surprised at how heavy his eyes felt; he was struggling keep them open. He tried blinking rapidly to stay awake but to not much avail.

"Sorry, but it's not my fault," the guy said with a shrug. "Just go back home and sleep."

Blaine started to wonder if he was even going to make it back to his apartment. It was harder to keep his eyes open now; all he wanted to do was curl up on the floor and take a nap.

The guy seemed to notice something was wrong. He took a step towards Blaine, concerned. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm so tired," Blaine yawned. He gave up on trying to keep his eyes open and shut them. Much better. Now, if only he were lying down...

"Oh, shit," the guy said, his voice higher with panic. It was kind of cute. "You're not going to fall asleep _now_, are you?"

"Mmm," Blaine murmured noncommittally. He sat down on the floor and rested his head on the shelves, dropping his tissue box on the ground. His pants were probably filthy, but he didn't care. He just wanted to sleep.

"Oh no. Oh _no_." The guy crouched down so he could jerk Blaine's shoulder back and forth frantically. He ignored him. "C'mon, wake up. Wake _up_. Please?"

Blaine repositioned himself so he would be more comfortable. He knew he was going to regret this later, but he just didn't have the strength to move. The medicine was shutting his body down; the overpowering desire for sleep zapped all his energy. "Just let me sleep," he muttered.

"Oh god, please nooo," the guy said in that same high-pitched, panic-infused voice. "You can't go to sleep _here_. Oh god, wake up, please, I-"

And then Blaine was asleep.

* * *

Blaine blinked slowly, still disoriented from sleep. He rubbed his eyes, yawning. He knew he should get up, but his bed was just so warm and-

Oh no. This wasn't his bedroom. In fact, he didn't even recognize this room.

He suddenly sat up, wide awake. What had he _done_?

"Well, hello there," someone said. Blaine whipped around to see who it was and _oh_, it was the boy from the grocery store. He was sitting in a nearby chair, looking up from a magazine.

"Uh, hi." Blaine tried to recall coming into this guy's home, but the last thing he remembered was falling asleep in the grocery store. Shit, did that really happen? He felt a shot of embarrassment surge through him. He was pretty sure he's never made _that _big a fool of himself. And he used to perform at theme parks. "How'd I get here, exactly?"

"You fell asleep in the middle of the store, so I called a couple of my friends and we dragged you out of there. And I didn't know where you lived so I just took you back to my place."

"Oh," Blaine said. "Thanks."

"Don't worry, falling asleep in the middle of a store happens to the best of us," he said with a smile. "I did take that soup, though."

"Bummer," Blaine said. He tried to keep calm but _wow_, the guy was so hot that it was making his brain malfunction. And was it just his imagination, or did he flirt with him? "That was my moment to shine."

The guy laughed softly before appearing to suddenly remember something. "You've got to be starving. Give me a second." He abruptly walked out of the room before Blaine could respond.

Now alone, Blaine looked around the room. A couple of Broadway musical posters hung from the walls. There were some of West Side Story and Phantom of the Opera and Victor Victoria. He admired one of Gypsy, with Patti LuPone. Man after his own heart.

Right next to him was a bedside table, where there were a couple of framed pictures. Blaine picked up one of a young boy and a woman who had to be his mother. He looked closer- was that the guy as a kid? Another was of a football quarterback, but Blaine couldn't recognize him. The next picture was of an older couple- his parents? The woman here wasn't the same one as in the other picture, but maybe his parents got divorced.

"Trying to see if I'm an axe murderer?"

Blaine looked up to see the guy standing in the doorway, holding a tray.

He opened his mouth to try and defend himself, but the guy simply shrugged. "It's okay."

He walked over to Blaine and carefully placed the tray on his lap. It held a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup.

"I went back later and they restocked," he said by way of explanation.

"Thanks." Blaine picked up the spoon and took a sip, nearly moaning at how delicious it was. It had really been too long since he'd eaten.

"So," the guy said. "You woke up in my bed with no recollection of how you got there. And now I'm feeding you. I think it's about time we introduced each other." He stuck his hand out. "I'm Kurt."

Despite trying to stay calm, Blaine was amazed at how beautiful this Kurt was. He had to get his number. Or _something_.

Blaine shook his hand. "I'm gay."

His eyes widened, immediately realizing what he just said.

"I mean-".

"Nice to meet you." Kurt looked amused, thank God. At least he wasn't running away from him, screaming. "So am I. Although that's not usually how I introduce myself, but hey. Not judging. That much."

He ducked his head. "I meant to say that I'm Blaine."

"Hi, Blaine," Kurt said. He smiled at him, making Blaine's stomach swoop. He smiled back at him, hoping he didn't come off as overly excited. Which he was, but it wasn't like he could help it. He was sitting in a hot guy's bed, after all.

Blaine sipped his soup. He had the feeling that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. And if it turned out to be something more than that, well, he definitely wouldn't be complaining.


	2. Drabble from Kurt's POV

A/N: This is a drabble that takes place after Blaine falls asleep and Kurt gets Rachel and Santana to come to the store to help him.

"You owe me for this," Santana sighed. She nudged the sleeping boy's body with her foot, but he didn't even move. "It's like he's dead."

Rachel picked up the tissue box and found a twenty dollar bill and keys inside, but no form of identification. "Kurt, you know I love you, but this is crazy," she said. "Where do you even want us to take him?"

"My place, I guess." Kurt knew it was more than a little creepy to drag an unconscious stranger into his home, but it was better than ditching him at a grocery store.

He grabbed the guy's left hand, the tissue box and the last can of soup tucked under his arm. Rachel and Santana followed suit and gripped the guy's right arm.

"On three," Kurt said. "One… two… three!"

They all started dragging his body. The guy was pretty small but he was hard to pull, even with three people helping. They had barely made it out of the aisle before Kurt's arms began to ache. He started to wonder if this was a good idea, especially since he was sick himself. Maybe he should have just called the police. Or something.

Kurt wasn't sure what, exactly, you were supposed to do when a cute stranger attempts to fight you over soup and then falls asleep in front of you.

"I know you're desperate to get laid, but this is a new low," Santana said, a bit out of breath. "After he wakes up, he better _at least_ give you his number."

They continued to tug his body, grunting and sighing and cursing the whole way. A couple of people stared at them, but they managed to pay for the soup and get out of there without being questioned.

Kurt almost wanted to give up, but then he looked down at the guy's face. He looked so peaceful and innocent and beautiful when he was sleeping, even if he knew he was actually a soup thief. A few curls fell in his face and Kurt fought the urge to brush them away. Even though he barely knew this guy, he felt this responsibility to make sure he was okay.

And if what Santana predicted came true, well, he definitely wouldn't be complaining.


End file.
